


I love Myself Until

by Prinxietys



Category: Thomas Sanders, prinxiety-fandom
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Image, I'm talking full on melt down, I'm unloading all the angst tonight, Lots of Angst, M/M, anxiety has body image problems, be prepared, gonna be honest, i wasn't kidding it gets really sad, probably not a happy ending, with maybe a happy ending?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:11:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinxietys/pseuds/Prinxietys
Summary: It's easy to hate what you love about yourself.





	

_ I love myself. _

It was true, he did. He liked the way he looked, he liked his body, he was proud of his appearance, and he was actually very fond of his stomach and thighs, even if they were larger than what people considered “Normal”.

Now there’s a word he’d never use for himself.

Normal.

It was very relative. For those who fell into a box and walked the line laid out for them.

True, he needed people’s help sometimes to tell him what to do, but that was in order for him to get things done in general. He just tended to… Not, do things. He didn’t always go out, he didn’t eat properly, he wasn’t social- but, he didn’t mind any of this. He received help, even when he didn’t ask for it (he never asked for it but, tomato, tomahto).

_ Yes, I love myself. _

_ Until… _

~~~

Prince was doing his normal thing-meaning getting into everybody’s business- when he, regrettably, noticed Anxiety trying to slip past and into the kitchen.

“Anxiety! Exactly who I wanted to see!”

Anxiety sighed, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge that the other had spoken. He instead dug in the cupboards until he found the tub of frosting Morality always hid in the same place. It was cream cheese frosting, and Anxiety couldn’t wait to open it for the first time.

He turned to get a spoon from the silverware drawer, but as soon as he had turned around the container was snatched from his hand and held out of his reach.

“Prince, give it back!” Anxiety didn’t want to do this. His computer was paused, and he just wanted to go back and finish the OA and enjoy his (Morality’s) frosting.

“No way, do you know how bad it is to just sit and eat frosting? It’s no wonder you gain weight like this,” Prince teased him and pat his side, but Anxiety pulled back.

“For your information, I don’t actually care. Now give it back!” He tried swiping the jar back, but Prince took a step back and Anxiety stumbled.

“Really Anxiety, this isn’t healthy you shouldn’t be eating like this, maybe if you went out for a walk or something, but you never even leave your room.” Anxiety could feel his face heating up, in anger or embarrassment he didn’t know, but he was feeling an awful mix of both.

“Prince is right,” Morality poked his head through window that separated the kitchen from the living room, “All you do is sit inside all day and sit in the dark eating. It’s probably why you’re so pale. You should come out with us sometime, it would do you good.”

“Well-” Anxiety’s retort was cut off by Prince.

“That’s a good idea, Morality! He can come with us on an outing! It’ll be good for him to get out, of course, he’ll have to clean up a bit if he wants to go out. Right now he looks like Dracula on two hours of sleep and no food.”

Tears of embarrassment pricked at Anxiety’s eyes, and he tried to rapidly blink them away. His hands had balled into fists at his side and he tried to flex out his fingers to calm down.

“Well, maybe if he just wore a little less make-up,” Morality thought vacantly, “And did something with his hair-”

“Forget it!” Anxiety finally snapped, “Just keep the stupid frosting, I don’t care!” He pushed, literally, passed Prince and down the hall to his room. He tried not to slam his door like some angsty teenager, but he was just so upset that he may have used a little too much force.

His laptop still sat open on his bed and he walked over and snapped it shut before shoving it out of the way and falling face first on his bed. He used the excuse of his face hidden in the blankets to let a few of his frustrated tears out. His hands were bunched up in the blankets above his head, and when he rolled to his back he pulled the blanket with and over his face.

His tears fell silently down his cheeks, but the more he thought of the others words, the more tears fell, and soon he was silently crying, small sobs escaping now and again, but nothing too loud. It was one of those cries that let you simply pity yourself, and let you get your frustration out, though in a form that was frustrating itself.

He tried controlling his tears, but every time he thought he may have it under control, he remembered the other's words and they began to fall once more.

Eventually he gave up and untangled from the blankets and moped into his bathroom, locking the door behind himself. He washed his face clear of make-up, and for a second when he looked in the mirror, he wasn’t sure who he was looking at.

It was someone who wasn’t crying silently to themselves, thinking over every insecurity they had about their own self. No, they were staring at someone who was taking care of themselves, cleaning their face, checking their hair perhaps, someone who had control of their life and was just going things like they normally did.

But, then he dried the water away and more leaked from the corners of his eyes. The facade was broken. Now he noticed it all. The red puffy eyes, the bags that his eye make-up always hid, the worry lines that had started to form very faintly in his brow. His expression crumpled and he dropped his head into his hands.

What was he doing, really? The others were right, he was a mess. He wasn’t what he thought. He wasn’t doing enough. He should be taking better care of himself, he should be doing more, like the others. He didn’t go out, he never went out for fresh air with that intent, he wasn’t social like them, he wasn’t outgoing, or creative, or helpful- Anxiety wasn’t, and never would be, like them.

He pressed a hand to his mouth to stop a sob from escaping. Thing echoed more in his bathroom, and he didn’t want anyone to hear.

At some point, he convinced himself that a shower may help, after all isn’t that where all heavy contemplation is accomplished? He stripped down to his undergarments and stopped to look at himself in the mirror.

He frowned.

What he had accepted about his weight suddenly seemed… ugly.

It’s true, he gained weight easily, and his eating and non-exercise habits didn’t help, but he had though he actually looked good despite all that.

He looked at his stretch marks, tracing them softly and then digging his short fingernails into his sides. True, he had a bigger stomach than the others, and maybe his thighs were bigger- he regretted now wearing briefs because they definitely showed off just how big he actually was- where had he been going with that point?

Looking at himself, he knew the truth. Of course he did, the others were right.

He crouched down on the bathroom floor and hugged his arms around his head as he bit hard at his lip to try and stop his now raucous cries.

Yeah, it was true.

_ I love myself- _

_ -Until I’m reminded why I shouldn’t. _


End file.
